


L'Papiyon

by kateyes085



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, Dean/Castiel overtones, Dom/sub, F/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-09
Updated: 2010-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-13 03:37:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyes085/pseuds/kateyes085
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trust and love go hand in hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L'Papiyon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blynnk and jolinarmalkshur](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=blynnk+and+jolinarmalkshur).



> I do not speak Kreyol. I have made notations at the end of what each saying is supposed to mean base on translations through the Internet.

  


~*~

"I thought you were dead."

"I was." Dean replied.

"Look pretty good for a corpse. You have missed your Castalia, chèri?" she asked. Dean rubbed the back of his neck, looked to the ground, and then up to her. The tips of his ears were red. 

"Come, your Castalia will take good care of you,  m'bèl gason [TW1] ," she purred seductively. 

~*~

Dean stood in the middle of the room stripped to his black boxer briefs. It was dark, the only light coming from candles that flickered about the room. The carpet under his bare feet was old and thick, scratching and tickling his soles. 

~*~

He had met her while working a job soon after Sam had left for college. His father was on a bender when Dean got the call about some particularly vicious and vengeful spirits attacking the children of a family located in the seedier outskirts of Old New Orleans. 

Castalia was called by the mother unbeknownst to the father who was in contact with the Winchesters through some mutual acquaintances.   In the end, it took the both of them to exorcise the spirits. Castalia performed protection rituals to assure the family's safety. 

Dean was twitchy and feeling lost. His brother had left, his father was hardly around and he was hanging on by an edge. The warm solace and comfort of the faceless women were not cutting it any more. He was so alone and aching.

Castalia was the same age as Dean and tiny; she barely reached his shoulder. She had long, thick black hair that hung down below her waist that complimented her light colored skin. Her eyes were a shocking bright blue that pierced through his very soul when she stared him down. She was exotic and delicate like a rare butterfly.

She boldly reached for his hand and clasped it as she searched his eyes. Suddenly sad, she reached to caress his cheek. On reflex, he flinched away. The hand holding his squeezed tightly, "so sad," she murmured softly. "Your  papiyon  [TW2] will balance you but  li zèl  [TW3] will set you free. 

~*~

Castalia entered the room wearing a thin, gauzy sheath, she walked and stood in front of Dean. He held his hands behind himself, solid and firm. 

She stared unblinking up at him. "Famine did not look deep enough chèri," she told him. Dean flinched slightly. "The victims react to the,  kisa sa a ye? [TW4] " she paused, "Pheromone? It is a physical, instinctual reaction to his presence, like War, the reaction is the result, you understand chèri?" Dean continued to stand stock still not responding other than the muscle twitching in his jaw. 

The slap across his face rang clear through the room, "I asked you a question. I expect an answer." Dean cracked his jaw and answered, "Yes, ma'am."   Not completely satisfied, she moved to the side nonetheless and instructed Dean, "Get on the bed, on your knees, facing the headboard." Dean crawled up the bed and positioned himself as instructed.

Dean was lost without order, without instruction. Castalia gave him that from time to time. She calmed the nervous anxiety and uncertainty that gnawed at him. 

"Your hand." She asked him. He placed it in her small, strong, calloused hand. Deftly, Castalia tied a secure knot with heavy rough rope. Dean felt the coarse texture rub the delicate skin of his inner wrists. "Lean forward," as she secured the rope tightly to the bedpost.   "The other," she asked after walking around to the other side of the bed. She repeated the process. Dean was secured with arms outstretched to the bedposts. He was on his knees. There was a strain in his shoulders and in between.   

Castalia walked around the bed and retrieved the item she was looking for. Dean stiffened when he heard the sharp crack the belt made when she snapped it with practiced hands. Her hand hovered over the scar on his shoulder as she curiously inspected it. She never touched it, but Dean flinched all the same. "Have no fear chèri, I have no wish to anger your Angel or incurring his wrath."

There was a pause and Dean concentrated on the wood grain of the old piece of furniture. There was a whiz through the air and a sharp, hard crack echoing throughout the room. The belt struck his behind dead center over the cloth-covered swell. Dean grit his teeth against the sting. 

She repeated the succession five straps across his ass, five against the back of his legs and five from his lower back up and back down again. Normally, this would suffice, but Dean had yet to release his pain. The tears fell but he stubbornly remained silent. 

Bright red welts were forming where he was struck. Castalia caressed them softly to relieve the pain only to flick a fingernail harshly across several of them at various intervals. Soft mewls graduated into softer whimpers at each application of her fingernail.

Castalia ran her finger down his crack. She reached around and caressed his straining cock, flicking her nail across the leaking tip that was moistening the cloth. Dean's hips jerked forward. She reached back around and pulled his briefs down baring him to her. He felt the cool, thick flat of her tongue lick first one cheek then the other in turn, cooling the heated surface. "Tell your papiyon why you sought her out tonight. Tell me chèri. Tell me why you needed me,  m'pitit [TW5] ." She asked him softly as she blew across his heated skin. Dean whined unashamedly. "Tell me!" she snapped followed by a hard slap of her hand on either cheek. 

Dean cried in surprise and anguish. "He was right. I'm dead, dead inside. They should have left me there. How am I supposed defeat Lucifer? I couldn't even protect my brother. I'm useless, a failure. I had one job, protect Sammy and I failed. Now the world is ending and I – I can't – I can't do what they need me to do. I'm not strong enough. I don't know what to do," he cried. 

"Yes you do chèri. You'll save us all." Castalia soothed him as she stroked his tortured skin reaching for the belt again slapping it harder against the bare skin, causing Dean to yell in pain, surrendering to simplicity of it all. 

On the ninth lash, Dean was wailing, crying and shaking as he strained against his bindings. "Release the anger, the fear and the confusion chèri. Trust in your Angel. Trust in his faith and his love for you." On the tenth lash, Dean released all over himself and the bedding screaming, "Cas!"

~*~

Castalia bathed Dean and tended his wounds. She soothed his fretful sleep, dressed, fed him and sent him on his journey the following morning. 

She reached up and kissed him softly on the lips. "Trust your Angel; he will give you what you need. You just need to trust yourself to let his love in to mend your broken heart."

~*~

  


  


* * *

  


[TW1] My beautiful boy, in Kreyol

  


  


[TW2] Butterfly in Kreyol

  


  


[TW3] His wing(s) in Kreyol

  


  


[TW4] What is that? In Kreyol

  


  


[TW5] My child in Kreyol

  


  


 

  


  


  


  


  


**Author's Note:**

> All stories posted are not for profit and are works of fiction. Feedback and honest criticisms are always appreciated.


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